


when the wizard was me

by AslansCompass



Category: RWBY
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-08-05 23:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 48
Words: 4,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16376771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: Professor Ozpin reflects on his life. Multiple drabbles, with spoilers for volumes 3-5





	1. blank places

He never remembers dying. Sometimes he thinks that's the only mercy left to him. Could he keep fighting if he knew otherwise? Through all the years, through all the transfers and reincarnation, death remains veiled to him.  

That's not to say he doesn't know what happened. He had faced Cinder on the tower, dueling as Grimm overran Beacon. Semblances crashed, weapons flashed in the dark.  No time to think, just act, react, thrust, parry. 

One stroke made it past his defenses. Just one.

....looking in the mirror on a quiet farmstead, a freckled face looking back. 

Oh. Again. 

_I'm sorry._


	2. every time

He's lying, of course.

He doesn't know he's lying. But there's one moment, one snapshot of time when he does remember. When he can't do anything else. In the final moment, before his soul breaks free and his body crumples, he remembers them all. Every death, from the first time (i _t was supposed to be the last time, the_ only _time_ ) to the present. Dying from old age (rarely), from illness (even more rare), from accidents (occasionally), from Grimm attacks (mostly, it was always the Grimm, that was his crime).

He's never been killed by one of the Maidens before. 


	3. youth

He wasn't expecting to be so young, though.  Younger than last time, younger than the Beacon students, even Ruby. He's, what, twelve?

( _fourteen,_ he knows; the process has already started.) 

Not ideal, but he can make it work. Has to make it work.  He already has allies in place, friends who know the truth; Qrow, Lionheart... but to everyone else, he's just a child. 

(he hasn't been a child for a long time) But ~~this body~~ ~~Oscar~~ he's so small. Muscle memory can only compensate so far.  Stamina, reach, agility, should come naturally, have to come naturally in a fight.


	4. first

Wilhelm.

The first time it happened, he was named Wilhelm. At least, the him-who-awoke was named Wilhelm. The other part, the the part that had been cursed, the wizard who lived on, had another name.

Wilhelm was a good man, and that made it easier and harder at the same time. He lived in Veil (what would become Veil), fighting the Grimm. No one had a guaranteed lifespan in those days, and those who fought had less than most. Wilhelm was young for a man but old for a defender, and that gave him an excuse for the new skills.


	5. boundaries

It comes back to him in nightmares sometimes, those first days with Wilhelm. He hadn't learned control yet, how to let himself slowly dissolve. He would aim; Wilhelm attacked. He ate; Wilhelm tasted. He stumbled; Wilhelm tripped.

  
At night, as Wilhelm slept, he wished for someone to explain, to stitch the torn threads back together.

  
No one ever did.

  
It took more than a year to resolve, to wake up in the middle of the night and not have to think about where he was. Yet, despite the confusion, there were moments when it didn't matter, when he was whole.


	6. teams

He's seen so many teams come and go at the academy; STRK, CFVY, CRDL, RWBY (the naming convention has been tiresome at times. How many ways can one invoke colors, after all?)  It takes time to train Huntsmen and Huntresses; education can only go so far. The rest comes down to experience.

And the only way to gain experience is by fighting. Pressure reveals character. He's seen promising teams destroyed by selfishness, and timid youths transformed into warriors. One color may wash away; another shines brighter.  One moment isn't enough to predict the future. 

There's always something to surprise him.


	7. sunrise

Sunrise has always been his favorite time of day. Watching the dark dissolve into light, the black sky fading to grey with vivid lines of red and orange. Birds singing, frogs croaking...the distant rumble of people getting ready for the day. Farmers harness horses to seed-laden plows,  bakers slide loaves of bread into warm ovens,  merchants arrange wares, and children scamper down stairs, far too early for their parents' liking.

He's seen more sunrises than he could possibly remember.  Even on the darkest of days, when rain or snow blurred the morning light,  he knows it's still there, beyond sight.


	8. transformation

Ozpin looked up the sky, watching the two birds chase each other. "It worked. Dust and colors, it worked."  Amazing.

A gust of wind filled the air with autumn leaves. The crow lost balance, tumbling backwards tail over beak into the dust. The raven fluttered down onto a branch, looking down in amusement.

"Okay, so you'll need some practice. _Both_ of you," Ozpin added. "We've got the whole holiday."

The crow hopped forward, tilting its ruffled head up. 

"Come on, you can do it," he murmured. 

The bird hopped into the air, circling Ozpin twice before landing on his shoulder.  


	9. clumsy

  
A twig snaps nearby; Grimm? Ozpin tightens his grip on his cane. "'Ware!"

The raven flutters to the ground, wings transforming into red sleeves. Talons reshape into leather boots. A dark-haired woman snatches her blade from the ground and raises it in defense.

The crow, still on Ozpin's shoulder, caws nervously.

"Come on, brother," Raven laughs.

The bird extends his wings, shuddering slightly. It seems nightmarish, a childish bird drawn on a ragged doll.

For one second, Qrow sits on Ozpin's shoulder.

They tumble to the ground, landing in a dusty heap.

"Maybe next time, you land _before_ changing back."


	10. paternal

_He was a father once._

When he has a choice, he chooses against relationships. When he returns as a young man, he simply remains unattached, turning down invitations and dinners and dates. How could he explain the lives he's lived, the years he's seen?

But once, very early (after the Maidens, the first life after them), he awoke as Coul Phillips, the second husband of May Wen, and stepfather to seven-year-old Daisy.

It was Daisy, oddly enough, who first noticed him. "Who's Daddy listening too?" she asked at breakfast.

"I don't know, yet." Coul said. "But I think he's friendly."


	11. new

  
He had spent so long alone, hiding from the world. But the first thing he saw in that life was Daisy's face.

Admittedly, it might have been cuter if she wasn't bouncing up and down on his stomach, chanting "wakeup wakeup wakeup." He's still sure the sight frightened him into incoherence for a week. Still, that moment--the little tug of happiness and care--felt so good. So new, so clean. Like washing away all the dirt and sweat and injuries after battling Grimm, like drinking cold water in blazing sunshine, like warm cocoa with good friends by the fire. Beginning again.


	12. old friend

This wasn't the first tavern they'd visited. Or even the fifth. At least it was early enough that most of them were empty.

"You sure your friend is here?"

 ** _He'll be where he's needed._**  

Ozpin recognized his friend immediately.  Qrow's shoulders were slumped, his head bowed, a full glass nearby.  

"Excuse me?" 

"You know, I don't think they allow kids in here, pipsqueak."

Oh, old friend. Qrow looks worse than Ozpin felt. The journey from Beacon had clearly been rough on him. Day-old stubble dotted his chin; his voice was rough, as if he had to remember each word individually.

 


	13. team

He tapped hesitantly on the door.

"It's late," Qrow mumbled.

"This won't take long."

"Oz?" The door swung open. "Something wrong?"

"No. In fact, I want to thank you."

"For what?"

"Giving Oscar time to adjust."

"He'll be good. Kid's got a lot of learning to do, though. No need to rush."

"Yeah...well... that's not always the case." Oz leaned against the wall. "The timing isn't ideal."

"Is it ever?"

"Salem's getting more powerful. Since she knows I'm back already, she'll push even harder. Oscar's going to need all the help he can get."

"I've got your back."

"I know."


	14. best laid plans

It's all going wrong this time. Over the centuries, Ozpin had learned some tricks to ease the process, with varying degrees of success. This time, he'd been determined not to repeat his own mistakes. He'd shared the secret with trustworthy, prominent people from across Remnant (who knew where he'd wake up this time?). He'd set off for Haven early, rather than waiting for full integration.  He hadn't told anyone the truth. 

Trustworthy? Qrow, yes. Ironwood, yes(?). Lionheart....how could he have been so blind? He knew the man was cautious, perhaps overly so, but how could Ozpin have misjudged so badly? 


	15. Gretchen

He remembers Gretchen, of course. Her irresistible laugh, her energy. He remember all the ones who fall under his command. It was supposed to be a training mission, a simple trip to clean out a pack of Beowolves. But there are no guarantees against Grimm.

He remembers talking with them in the hospital afterwards. "They just kept coming," one of the survivors told him. "We'd cut one down; another would take its place. I was reloading Dust when one charged."

Gretchen died protecting her team. One Hunter broke an arm; a Hunteress cracked a rib. But they made it back.


	16. self-image

He doesn't make much use of mirrors. In the early days of a reincarnation, it's too disconcerting; later, it just doesn't matter. He's just himself, Wilheim or Ozpin or Coul, whichever face he's wearing at the time.

  
It's not that he avoids them either. A certain amount of mirror time is generally necessary for hygiene purposes, especially on the occasions when he's in a position of authority. It just never defined him.

  
Over the years, he's shied away from portraits too. Not for any particular reason; there's no visual connection between reincarnations. He's been every nationality, every age, every appearance. 


	17. icebreakers

  
The first day of classes at Beacon Academy never gets old. Sure, there might have been more traditional ways to open classes or assign teams, but none of them match the sheer fun of launching students off a cliff and making them pair with the first person they saw.

  
He could justify it, if asked. Huntsmen and Huntresses are often required to work in teams with strangers. Random assignments create groups that reflect the chaos in the field. There's no time for establishing credentials or challenging authority. Teamwork is just as important as fighting skills.

  
Plus, it's hilarious to watch.

 


	18. privacy

He never meant to be secretive. But there's a difference between private and secretive. Even children understand that much. Taking a shower is a private activity, but it's not secret. Everybody does it; everybody knows that everybody else does it. It's just not talked about. But the distinction is a fine line, easily ignored when emotions enter the picture.

  
He told Ruby that he'd made more mistakes than any man, woman, or child. That wasn't a secret. _What_ those mistakes were; that was different. Just because someone can see your scars doesn't mean that they're entitled to re-open the wound.


	19. cocoa

It's not coffee. Despite what anyone else thinks, he doesn't drink coffee. Any drink that requires half a cup of sugar and cream to taste decent is not worth the effort. Tea, on occasion. And alcohol is reserved for special events. So in the moments when he needs a warm beverage, he goes for hot chocolate. Only the best, of course, made with real cocoa, creamy milk, and the puffiest, freshest marshmallows.   
He hopes Oscar like hot cocoa too. Small things like that don't really matter in the long run, but it's the small comforts that make a day better. 


	20. choices

Sometimes he almost wishes to dispense with the pretense, to remain in one body, unaging, until disturbed by death. As it is, no one notices anything strange unless he specifically tells them. But if he didn't age--if he looked the same at twenty, forty, sixty--he could tell them, he would have to tell them. He'd have something to point to,  physical, undeniable evidence that he was more than he seemed.  As it was, he could be as open or secretive about his identity as he wanted.  Sometimes, though, it would be nice to have the matter out of his hands.


	21. routine

It's the small things that get forgotten. Thankfully, reincarnation comes with an expanded memory capacity, but there are still limits. The first thing to slip is everyday habits. Did he eat breakfast today? When was the last time he did laundry (one advantage of the headmaster's position; everyone expects you to be absent-minded and hire out for that sort of thing. ) The best way he's found to counteract this is to have a strict schedule. Breakfast at seven, lunch precisely at noon, and supper at six sharp. Anything eaten in between Does Not Count. It falters sometimes, but works overall.


	22. son of man (a man for all to see)

Oscar has to grow up on his own. No matter how many times Ozpin's been through this process before, it never grows any easier. He can guide, offer advice, listen, but Oscar makes his own choices. No matter what a teacher presents, the student is responsible for the final grade on the test.

Ozpin can offer what he has-- strength and knowledge, experience and skill. But Oscar has his own gifts that must not be lost. Humility, curiosity, and vigor. Traits too easily lost, and too soon spent. Neither half is discarded. It must be a union, complete and kind.


	23. snowfall

The first snowfall of winter came when he wasn't expecting it. Somewhere between Beacon and Haven, he'd lost track of time. Now, looks out through Oscar's eyes at the snowy mountains. He must have liked winter, sometime. Once, he could have looked out at the snow and seen sledding and snowball fights. Others could admire the view, seeing snow in a merely artistic sense. Now, he looks out and thinks about tracking Grimm, provisions, and combat strategies.

It was like that on the farm too. Oscar agrees. Winter just means more work.

I'm sorry all the same, Ozpin tells him.

 


	24. cursed

  
He still remembers the first sight of Qrow's Semblance, a black shroud like a tattered cloak. The boy holding himself aloof from everyone, even his sister. The day during training when everything seemed to go as badly as possible, down to Summer tripping over a loose paving stone and Taiyang nearly skewering the instructor.  
Qrow had asked for a private conference; alone, in the shade of an old yew, he revealed his power. The rest of his tribe distanced themselves from him, even before the formal understanding became clear.  
He's never feared Qrow's Semblance. Why should he?   
He's already cursed.


	25. over a couple of drinks

Meeting Qrow in a tavern was... less than ideal.   
"You got any money?" On Oscar's negative answer, Qrow slammed a handful of coins onto the counter. "Whiskey for me, and for my friend..."  
 _Small cider,_ Ozpin suggested. He doubts this place serves hot cocoa, which would be his first choice. As much as he could use something stronger, one of them is going to be capable of getting back to the safe house afterwards. And he doesn't feel like testing the boy's tolerance and leaving them with a headache tomorrow.   
The server side-eyed him, but didn't say anything in response.


	26. what happened?

_Ask him about Beacon._  
"Um, he says.. what happened at Beacon?"  
Qrow stared him in the eye. "You don't want to know, kid. You really don't want to know."  
Oscar stares back.  
Qrow downs an entire shot and calls for another. "Don't say I didn't warn you."  
Ozpin steels himself. He's not sure how Oscar will react to the story, but there's no way around it. He can't hold control for the entire conversation.  
And if he's honest, he doesn't want to. He needs that distance. There will be time for mourning later, for sorrow, rage, and regrets. Not now.


	27. ruby rose

Ozpin couldn't resist playing along with Glynda's scheme. When she told him about Ruby and the Dust robbery, he had to follow up on it. Anyone with that much talent and chutzpah deserved more attention.

He walked into the holding cell, mug in one hand, plate of cookies in the other. If asked, he'd claim the sweets were to soften her up. True enough, but he also didn't feel like leaving his snacks unattended. Headmaster was a demanding job; he'd burn all those calories.

"Ruby Rose." He leaned in, studying her face in the harsh light. "You have silver eyes."


	28. chess

Ozpin's thoughts are never static. They chase each other like a swarm of bees, gathering information from a hundred sources and analyzing it. Life isn't a chess match, it's far more complicated. Perhaps that's why he's not overly partial to the game, one way or another. It's too straightforward, too few variables. It encourages him to view people as no more than pieces of a game.  
He can't think like that. It's already tempting enough to dismiss people, to see them as blades of grass in an ancient forest. But that's not true. Everyone is important. Everyone has worlds inside.


	29. protégée

"You can't be serious!" Glynda exclaimed. "She's not ready."  
"She took down a whole gang of thieves by herself, on the spur of the moment." Ozpin countered.  
"There's a difference between thieves and Grimm! You can't just drag kids into this!"  
"She's been attending Signal for years, trained under Qrow."  
"Qrow?" Glynda's tone flipped from surprise to resignation. "Oh. So that's where she gets the recklessness from."  
"It's worse than that," Oz raised his mug and took a sip. "Qrow's her uncle."  
"Her...uncle?" Glynda rubbed her forehead. "Well, this is going to be an interesting four years. If I survive."


	30. enthusastic

Yes, Ruby's combat skills are impressive for her age. And that's without taking her heritage into account. If she chooses to stay a Huntress, those silver eyes will be invaluable. But that's not what impressed him most about her.

>   
>  "I want to help people."

The straightforward statement belies her energy, the warmth of her smile.  
She wants to make a difference. More than that, she believes she can make a difference. That quality is all too rare, no matter the age or abilities one possesses. So many hunters fall into complacency, defending as a duty, without hope of anything more.


	31. tortoise

Sometimes Ozpin feels like a tortoise trying to lead a pack of cats.  Sure, he could reference the old fable of the tortoise and the hare, but the problem is, the others aren't wrong. They aren't overconfident or proud; just... hasty. He has to look ahead, to see the bigger picture,  what might make a better world years, decades, centuries, later.  He isn't concerned with his own safety (not that he's going to do anything reckless, but Grimm are Grimm and must be fought).  So he leads, not from the front or behind, but to the side, quietly, with strength.


	32. journey

 Even in his first life, he'd wandered far and wide. But in those days, it wasn't about the destination. The world was wide and new, fresh and full of wonders. In those days, the full moon shone bright, revealing beauty and dangers in equal measure. He didn't have to have a purpose, no larger goal. Just trying to leave a place better than he found it. It could be as straightforward as slaughtering Grimm, or as subtle as soothing relations between neighbors. One of his favorite memories from those days was a time he'd chopped firewood for an elderly lady.


	33. frost

The first frost of autumn coated the grass, making it crunch beneath his boots. Small birds and squirrels darted aimlessly from branch to branch. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. Should've put the gloves near the top of his pack, instead of randomly squashing them in.  
He'd been colder than this before-- in the north lands , frost comes a full month earlier. Which wouldn't be so bad if snow wasn't still a possibility four or even five months later. On the other hand, Grimm didn't like the cold any more than humans. Attacks tend to decrease then.


	34. analogy

What's going to happen to me?   
_**What do you mean?**_ Oz stalled.  
I've read about this sort of thing. Are you just going to take over completely?  
 _ **No. No, it isn't like that at all...oh, how to describe it...**_ Ozpin reaches back through his centuries of experience for an example. **_Do you bake?_**  
Sometimes. Why?  
 _ **Have you ever made sourdough bread?**_  
Not exactly.  
 _ **But you know how it goes,don't you. You have a starter, made from flour, water, and yeast. To make bread, you just add a small amount to some flour and bake it.** _  
I don't get it.


	35. sourdough

_**The starter isn't bread. Not by itself. Each time, you have to add more flour. But the starter doesn't go bad. It just gets richer, stronger...**_ Oz let the thought trail off.   
"So... you're saying that's what's going to happen to me?"  
 _ **Not exactly.** _  
"Bread. What kind of analogy is that?"  
Oz sighed. After all these times, he really should have come up with a better way of explaining the situation. At least he'd learned enough to use images Oscar understood. Thread for the weaver, forging for the blacksmith, paint for the artist.   
And simple, homely bread, fresh from the oven.


	36. burnt candles

"Stupid lady stilts," Ruby yelled after her teammates.  
Ozpin chuckled. "Not enjoying yourself?" It was amusing, how someone so quick and precise in battle could be so awkward due to a few extra inches of heel.   
"Oh, no, everything's fine! I'm just not much of a fancy pantsy... dancey girl."  
"Well, you can't spend your whole life on the battlefield, even if you may want to." Sometimes it would be easier. Just go out, slaughter Grimm. None of this political, social business. He'd rather face a Nevermore than a committee any day. Defending is easy. Uniting the realms is harder.


	37. autumn

"I'll do it."  
Ozpin closed his eyes, He hadn't expected anything less from Phyrria, But he'd hoped...no, not hoped. Imagined, perhaps. Planned, certainly. Pyrrha would have been a great Maiden. A warrior he would have been proud to fight alongside. But not like this. Not this gamble. The transfer of Aura, the half-granted powers, the possible loss of identity--no, he would not have sanctioned this if there was another way.   
They can't leave the Fall Maiden's power with her murderer. Over the years, the mantle has only increased its weight, giving knowledge, creativity, and skill, as well as raw power.


	38. wheat eggs

Growing up, Ozma had eaten wheat eggs more times than he could remember. Not that he particularly enjoyed them--but they were a staple, served for breakfast, lunch, and supper, through the world.  A child's first solid food, a quick meal while working, a nourishing taste when sick.  Sometimes he got sick of it; sometimes it was the best food in the world. Sometimes he'd walk through miles of grain fields, the distinctive gold-rimmed leaves shimmering in the sunlight, while the empty, ripe pods fell to the ground. He'd even eaten some raw.

It almost put him off them for life. 


	39. craving

After killing his first Grimm (well, first Grimm in _Remnant_ , in this new world with a shattered moon), Ozma was hungry. He'd always been hungry after a fight, even if he couldn't tell a bean from a berry. But as time went by, he realized he was craving something particular.

Wheat eggs. Just one more missing piece in a strange world.

Such a small thing. The loss of magic, the rise of a new species, the increase in Grimm... dozens of differences, a hundred small changes, but the smallest pebbles can cause the biggest limp. A nagging, never satisfied, craving.


	40. faunus

He's mostly been human, all these years. He's always been himself, but more so. All the rebirths and returns; most of the like-minded souls are human. But not all of them.  
There was Harrison, and Colin, and Llyod...but they were people, first and foremost. It's like asking which of his counterparts were blond, or couldn't cook, or liked the color red.  
Of course, there were amusing moments. Trying to get his pants on over Colin's tail, tripping over Harrison's wings, managing the extra limbs and the unusual balance. Without his prior experiences, it might have taken much longer to adjust.


	41. Menagerie

_What is Menagerie?_  
The only Faunus-dominated country in Remnant, it was established in the southeast continent after the Great War.

No, that's the political answer. What is Remnant to the Faunus?  
A slum.  
A deadly wilderness.  
A prison people are born into.  
Somewhere they don't have to hid.

Oz had debated these questions many times in Menagerie's early days, from dawn to dusk. sometimes into dreams, with Colin. The canine Faunus had seen bigotry and kindness, judgment and understanding, during the Great War. Oz had no illusions about the nature of humanity. Would Menagerie prove a haven or a cage?


	42. you great unfinished symphony

It takes no strength to destroy the world.  
But building a new one... ah, that's hard. Harder than fighting Ursas, harder than forging weapons,  
Harder than going on.  
At the end of the day, both Colin and Oz ached, muscle and mind. Some days were spent felling trees and splitting boards, others writing laws and settling disputes. Strangers watching him walk home could determine how well the day had gone by watching his tail.  
On good days, it curled like a quotation mark, slowly but deliberately waving from side to side.  
On bad days, it drooped, collecting dust and dirt.


	43. one

it's not about him. It never was. Even in his first life, even as Ozma the warrior, he was just a man. Just one person. Magic or not, mortal or not, one person cannot bear the weight of the world. At most, he can only be a pivot, a tipping point, the level that moves the world. Gathering the kindling for the blacksmith's forge.

  
The world is wider than he can possibly know, no matter how many lives he lives. While he's in Beacon, training warriors, life happens elsewhere. In the end, it may depend on something small, something insignificant


	44. shut out the light

so many days in darkness, so many nights in despair.  it's not about life or death, joy or terror. it's about the world and what it will become. If he was to be the foundation of a new world, than he had to accept the cost.  Foundations are buried, trampled, crushed. Cornerstones, not capstones. No bright ribbons to cut, no shining cap with elegant inscriptions. Just the everyday burden of work, scaffolding and refuse obscuring the grand design. Work in progress, even when no progress is to be seen. waiting for timbers to set, paint to dry, shingles to settle.


	45. vine and fig tree

So many years spent saving the world; can't he have one life to enjoy it? Walking down the streets, he sees mighty trees he planted centuries ago. In his office, he has worn, leather-bound volumes chronicling events he witnessed firsthand.  When he visits Atlas, he passes a statute of a former life. But must he always create? A poet once compared life to a garden. The land must be plowed, sown, tended, and reaped, Fields don't grow new stones overnight; rocks can't migrate from one field to another.  Surely, somewhere, there is an orchard of juicy, ripe fruit to eat.


	46. same eyes

He never knows a host in advance; he always wakes as a stranger.   
That doesn't mean he never ponders the question. It's rare for his incarnations to meet, even in passing, but not unknown. With some positions, it would be strange if he didn't. King of Vale, Headmaster of Beacon-- the sheer number of people he interacts with increases the odds. When he grows old naturally (and how rare those days are), he finds himself daydreaming about passersby. Would the local Huntsman ask about old battles? Would the baker seek to recreate old recipes? Would the apprentice dream strange dreams?


	47. useless

Why bother? I'm useless.   
Oz sighed. The training session with Ruby hadn't gone well, but he hadn't realized how disheartening it would be for Oscar. You're not useless. It takes time to learn.  
We don't have time! The first fight we get into--  
I can--  
But what if you can't? What if something happens and you can't fight?   
You're not traveling alone. The rest of the team--  
So what, I'm just a package to deliver?  
No, no, of course not.   
Then what is the point?  
It's not that simple. I've been doing this for centuries, one day at a time.


	48. heirs

His hosts vary in age, social status, and location; sometimes this frustrates him. But like all men, he must leave tasks unfinished, trusting in the next generation to carry on his work. He can train others to follow in his steps, but he cannot force them.   
By now, he has lived too long to be surprised by failure, if not long enough to expect it. There have been failures, but there have also been successes. Moments when someone young and full of hope exceeded his ambition, making something beautiful out of the chaos he left behind. Those days are precious.


End file.
